The right to remain silent
by ferggirl99
Summary: "1-2-3-4 I declare a fic war!" So basically, I got a prompt from htbthomas: "Felicity gets arrested, and this time there's no convenient crisis (and no Lance)." This is what happened. 3 fics, all centered around what might happen if Felicity gets re-arrested while Lance is suspended. All with different focuses (angst, fluff, friendship). Let me know which you like the best!
1. Fic 1: No way out

**A/N: I was given this prompt and wrote three different one-shots. Because I can! Mwahahaha. My intentions were to reach for different emotions. This one's angsty. **

**A/N 2: I own nothing. I'm just playing god for a bit and then I'll put them back.**

* * *

_Prompt (from the wonderful htbthomas): Felicity gets arrested, and this time there's no convenient crisis (and no Lance)._

* * *

This time, there's no sympathy in the eyes across the table.

She is not here to satisfy one man's curiosity. She is here to pay for the actions of another.

The interview is brief. They've used the time between her first questioning to firm up their suspicions and arrange terms with the DA's office. He silently shows her printout after damning printout, detailing her actions and their direct link to open Hood investigations.

He asks her four questions. Three she answers with silence of her own.

"Are you working with the vigilante?"

_Don't admit anything. _

"Do you know who the vigilante is?"

_Don't endanger the team. _

"Do you admit to hacking the FBI database?"

_Oliver will help. _

The fourth catches her off guard.

"Did you think you were going to get a phone call?"

_Yes._ She knows her sudden movement, the way her head comes up involuntarily, gives her away. She can see the cold victory in his eyes.

Apparently, she's classified as a terrorist (_Hello Gitmo_, she thinks hysterically) so the phone call is an option the Starling City Police Department can choose to waive. She's moved to holding, and they take everything that's hers away in return for an orange jumpsuit.

_It's not my color. _

She hasn't spoken in an hour, maybe two. The words are stuck, lodged tightly in the back of her bone-dry throat. There are no jokes that will ease this panic.

She changes in full view of two female officers who brusquely check her naked body for any hidden items. It's so humiliating that she can't quite accept it as real. She concentrates on breathing and writes short news blurbs in her head.

_Feliciy Megan Smoak. Top of her class, summa cum laude. Recruited out of college by three of Starling City's top firms. Turned to a life of crime after meeting the boss's son. _

It's not until the bars snap closed and she's left alone in a cell meant for two that she crumbles into deep, heaving sobs. She muffles the noise of her fear in the prison-issue pillow as well as she can.

There is no one to turn to. She's dug her own grave. What had she said to Oliver before everything went to shit? Before the Glades was destroyed, his best friend killed, his mother arrested and his life torn apart once more.

_People lie. Computers never do. _

Heady with her own prowess, with the urgency and the nobility of their cause, she'd forgotten that. She'd been so careful to cover Oliver and Diggle's tracks, she'd neglected to cover her own.

At least they are safe. After Lance had called her in with information on her work computer, she'd panicked and hacked her own phone records from a public library computer. Now anytime Oliver or Diggle's numbers are supposed to appear, the official report will show calls to her mother, her favorite pizza place, or the nursing home where her father is spending his remaining months in Coast City.

The shout for "lights out" echoes down the corridor, and she huddles into the thin blanket, wishing she was tied up and held at gunpoint by a mob boss, or hiding from some drug dealers. Those are situations Oliver can handle.

She thinks back to those sheets of paper on the interrogation room table. She has blood on her hands, those papers are saying, as much as Oliver. She can recall every time an operation went south, how hard they'd tried to minimize the damage. But the bodies are still there.

_Maybe this is the only way to clear that slate. _

Starling City needs someone to blame for the vigilante's failures. If she gives them that, can they accept him as the hero she knows he can be?

The lights wink out, one by one. She can hear the buzz of conversation die down as guards hiss orders for quiet. Her mind races through possible outcomes, building and dismantling defenses. Each has a fatal flaw, an easily noticeable reason for a judge and jury to doubt her.

Not one of the defenses can argue that she called the police.

Not when she was asked to break into a security company. Not when she analysed a Vertigo sample. Not when she was held at arrowpoint and forced to hack a federal agency.

This is the law. She has done wrong, and they have found her.

_Oliver Queen can't save me now._


	2. Fic 2: The only explanation

**A/N: I was given this prompt and wrote three different responses. Because I can! Mwahahaha. My intentions were to reach for different emotions. This one's fluffier. Well, I think so, anyway. **

**A/N 2: You'll probably notice I use some of the same questions and similar backstories in these three. I feel like the dangers of Felicity being arrested are clear, and it's just a question of how they're handled once it happens. Let me know what you think. **

* * *

_Prompt: Felicity gets arrested, and this time there's no convenient crisis (and no Lance). _

* * *

She's been here before. Detective Lance had marched her into this room and teased her with the evidence they'd found on her computer.

It had been on the day the Glades died.

She hasn't seen much of Diggle and Oliver since that day. They'd gotten her home through the madness with instructions to lay low and stay safe. Since that night, as far as she can tell, Oliver has done the barest minimum as the Hood. Just a few outings to stay visible, with most of his time spent at home with his sister or helping Laurel plan a funeral. Dig is recovering from a stab wound. Mrs. Queen has been arrested and Walter never returned to Queen Consolidated.

Now she sits across from someone else. This cop, a Lieutenant whose name she'd missed when he'd pounded on the door to her apartment, has hard eyes and a slick suit. She'd much rather deal with Lance's slouch and snark and sense of honor.

"Please state your name for the record."

"Felicity Megan Smoak." She'd meant to talk to Oliver about her visit with SCPD, to plan for the next time. But then the world had fallen apart, and a short interview with a Detective who had the vigilante on speed dial hadn't mattered anymore.

"Are you aware of your rights?"

"Yes." Does she know any attorneys? The only one she can think of is Laurel Lance. Somehow that is one too many levels of weird – she'd almost prefer jail to explaining her many late night calls to Oliver.

"You were previously interviewed by Detective Quentin Lance?"

"Yes," she hesitates but can't hold herself back from adding, "and released."

The Lieutenant just watches her. The silence stretches until she breaks it again.

"I'm actually surprised he's not here." Lance would help her, if only he were here.

"Detective Lance is suspended until he is cleared of aiding and abetting the criminal known as the vigilante."

His voice is cold, and she feels the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. Lance had been all righteous fury and passionate indignation when he talked about the Hood. This man is icy indifference and she is very afraid. He doesn't care if Oliver has become a hero. He won't count the thousands of people whose lives they'd saved.

"You work at Queen Consolidated?"

"Yes."

"What is the nature of your work there?"

"I, uh, I am an information technology associate."

Again, he waits. The answer doesn't seem satisfactory, and Felicity itches to explain herself, to go on at length about the ins and outs of her work. But she knows that every extra sentence runs the risk of exposing Oliver.

"It means I work with computers." Normally, she'd mean that as a joke. But Felicity would never joke with this man.

"And where in your job description does it include hacking into other companies' security systems?"

She is silent.

"No answer? How about doing research on weaponry used by criminals in Starling City?"

Her nails bite into her damp palms, but she stays quiet.

"Nothing to say? Here's an interesting one. You cracked FBI cybersecurity on the night that a dozen agents were killed in a safe house guarding Frank Bertinelli. That's a federal crime and carries a heavy sentence all on its own."

There is a ringing in her ears. "I… I was under duress. I did not do that willingly."

"Under duress from who?" he glares at her, letting her file slap against the table.

"Helena Bertinelli. She held a crossbow to my neck."

"There's no record of a 911 call. No report of any kind. And we know the vigilante was out that night. How did she know to threaten you?"

Felicity swallows. She knows where this is going and she can only see one way out.

"Mm, again no answer. Let's change subjects. Care to explain why nearly a third of your calls were to Oliver Queen's personal cell phone or to his bodyguard's phone?"

She closes her eyes, wishing fervently that when she opens them she'll be lying in her bed or passed out on the couch in the lair. If this is all just a terrible dream…

"Stay awake, Ms. Smoak."

This is no dream.

"I work for his company."

"One in which he has no stake, no role."

"He still visits."

"Does he visit you?"

She considers her options. Silence will likely mean jail for her with Oliver and Diggle dragged in for questioning. Saying the wrong thing could accidentally reveal Oliver.

"He's not very tech savvy."

"Answer the question, Ms. Smoak."

Option three: take a leap and pray that Oliver follows.

"We've been… seeing each other," she whispers. "He doesn't want publicity."

"Oliver Queen is dating an IT girl?" His raised eyebrows and the disbelieving tone of voice make it clear that he is far from convinced. "How did you meet?"

She casts her memory back to that day, chewing on her pen in her new pink shirt, when he'd walked into her life.

_Felicity Smoak? Hi, I'm Oliver Queen._

"Well, he spilt coffee on his laptop," she says, sticking as closely as possible to his original story. "And he needed me to salvage what I could off of it."

* * *

The lieutenant spars with her, poking and prodding her memory, trying to scare her into some grand confession. Eventually, he circles back around to the most dangerous of his questions.

"Why does your computer match up with the Hood's activities if you aren't working with him?"

Felicity is tired, sick to her stomach, and feeling very, very alone.

So she's beyond shocked when the door swings open, framing a very angry, very dapper Oliver Queen. Felicity has no idea how Oliver had known where she was. It isn't like she's carrying a tracker in her boot.

"This interview is over, Lieutenant Pike." Oliver strides in and pulls Felicity up into his arms. She feels his lips brush her ear and just catches his whispered question. "_We dating?_"

She turns her face into his expensive suit and nods once, relieved that he has come to the same conclusion she did about an alibi. His hold tightens and he immediately ducks his head to drop a kiss onto her lips. It's light and quick, but she feels it down to her toes. Since she assumes that after seven months she wouldn't be blushing after a kiss, she resorts to burying her face in his lapels.

"You cannot interrupt an ongoing police interrogation!" Pike is livid.

"Did I mention that I have Commissioner Brady on speakerphone?" Oliver's smile is lethal as he places his phone on the table. "She's an old family friend."

"Commissioner, this woman has been served with an arrest warrant and must be processed according to the standards of the law," Pike sputters. "She's an accomplice to the vigilante."

Even through the tinny amplification of the cell phone, the authority in the commissioner's voice is unmistakable.

"Mr. Queen has quite satisfactorily explained that he asked her to do some small investigations, initially out of idle curiosity, and later hoping to perform a public service and help capture the Hood. Misguided, perhaps, but not illegal."

"She revealed an FBI safehouse!" Pike roars.

"Only when forced. Mr. Queen found her in her office, but it was too late to stop what Ms. Bertinelli had planned."

Oliver runs his hands up and down her arms reassuringly. She knows he can feel her heart pounding, and that he probably assumes she is scared. He is half right.

"Lieutenant, your precinct has been hard hit by recent events." The commissioner's tone is conciliatory. She is offering him a way out. "I know you're operating short one detective pending an investigation into his ties to this vigilante. May I suggest that you allow that investigation to proceed before moving ahead with any arrests?"

Pike's jaw clenches, and his hard eyes move to Oliver and Felicity. From the safety of Oliver's arms, he is less frightening, but she's still relieved when he turns away.

"Commissioner," Oliver says smoothly. "It's been a long day, and the evidence is purely circumstantial and misinterpreted, as I've explained. Do I have your permission to take Felicity home?"

"You do, Oliver. Give my best to Thea, would you?"

"Commissioner," Pike begins.

"That's enough, Pike. I expect to hear from you in five minutes from your Captain's office. She is free to go."

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Oliver leads Felicity out of the station. He keeps an arm around her waist, and when he opens the car door for her, he leans in for another kiss. When he pulls away, they are both breathing a little harder.

"Are they still watching?" he whispers. Felicity looks over his shoulder and sees Lieutenant Pike standing in the doorway to the precinct.

"Yes."

"Good." His smile is fierce as he closes the door.


	3. Fic 3: A day in the life

**A/N: I was given this prompt and wrote three different responses. Because I can! Mwahahaha. My intentions were to reach for different emotions. This one was my first stab at the prompt. (I'm posting them in the reverse order of how I wrote them.) It's the most "me" of the fics. **

* * *

_Prompt: Felicity gets arrested, and this time there's no convenient crisis (and no Lance). _

* * *

"Miss Felicity Smoak?"

Felicity glanced up to see a young man in a slightly rumpled suit standing at her desk. She'd been busy today, since a massive upgrade to their email server Queen Consolidated employees had lodged all kinds of complaints. She was definitely not in the mood for one more admin assistant to explain why their missing email was the most important of the missing email and should be made her first priority.

"Listen," she attempted diplomacy. "Everyone's lost some email, we're working to restore the missing hours as a whole and I can't take on an individual computer right now."

He didn't move, just raised an eyebrow at her. He didn't look familiar, but the low-grade suit and rumpled blond hair seemed to suggest a less public department.

"Sorry, was that not clear? I can't help you right now, email server emergency. Please leave?" she tried, letting a bit of irritation bleed into her voice.

"Felicity, did you finish resolving the discrepancies between the two – who are you?" Her boss came barreling into her office at top speed. Dressed in a sharp red suit and killer heels, Jennifer was not likely to be as kind to the man currently distracting one of her top coders.

"Nice of you to ask, ma'am," he said, unruffled in the face of Jennifer's annoyance. "Detective Sam Carsters, SCPD."

Felicity froze, for just a moment, her mouth going dry. It had been weeks since the visit from Lance about her investigations for Oliver. She hadn't seen much of Diggle and Oliver in that time. They'd gotten her home safely the night of the earthquakes with instructions to lay low and wait to hear from one of them. Since that night, as far as she could tell, Oliver had done the barest minimum as the Hood. Just enough to stay visible, while staying home with his sister. Dig was recovering from a stab wound. Mrs. Queen had been arrested and Walter had never returned to Queen Consolidated.

"What on earth are you doing in IT?" Jennifer asked the detective, interrupting her thoughts. "We have external relations people, floor 8, northwest corner of the building." She turned away from him, prepared to continue her conversation with Felicity.

Carsters smiled, just a touch, and stepped toward Felicity's desk to intercept them. "Sorry, ma'am, but I need to speak to Miss Smoak. Now."

Jennifer groaned. "You have incredible timing. Is this about that search warrant you executed on her desktop a month ago? I'm still not sure that was legal, and I've passed it on to our lawyers here."

He nodded, and Felicity's heart sank. "Yes ma'am. Until they have it thrown out, we need to complete the interview that Detective Lance started."

Her boss turned and looked hard at her. Felicity attempted to meet her gaze without squirming, but she wasn't entirely successful.

"How long do you need?" she found her voice, finally, and turned to address the detective. "There's a conference room down the hall."

"Actually," he looked a little uncomfortable for the first time, "you're going to have to come with me to headquarters."

The two women stared at him.

"Is that absolutely-" "Why on earth should she-"

Jennifer cut Felicity off with a wave of her hand. "I'm sorry, that's simply not possible today. I'll clear her schedule tomorrow, but we've got to get these servers back online."

Felicity nodded, hoping that her boss's determined tone would work. She needed time to call Oliver.

Carsters sighed. "I was hoping to spare you the embarrassment, miss, but my Lieutenant himself handed me this warrant. I'm going to have to place you under arrest for aiding and abetting the vigilante."

He looked between their shocked faces. "I do hope you'll come willingly."

* * *

Jennifer convinced Detective Carsters to give her employee five minutes to collect herself before reading her the Miranda rights. He stepped outside and Felicity felt the sharp edges of panic surrounding her.

"Is it true?" Jennifer asked, sounding merely curious. "The vigilante?"

Her breaths were too shallow, she couldn't quite hear over the ringing in her ears. All those jokes about Guantanamo didn't sound so funny now.

"I, uh," she tried to think of how to be evasive and came up with nothing. "This is crazy. I'm being arrested."

Her boss shook her head sympathetically, and said she'd contact Legal to see if they'd send someone to represent her. Then she left, too, and Felicity was alone.

She still couldn't catch her breath, and she knew logically that if she didn't get that under control in the next sixty seconds she would very likely hyperventilate and pass out. Not to mention, she was losing the precious minutes to alert Oliver that they'd been discovered.

Because really, if the techs at SCPD were good enough to follow her trail to Merlyn Global, they were good enough to check her phone records. There was no way she could explain that many calls to Oliver Queen's cell phone – she wasn't even supposed to know him beyond hooking up his internet and the occasional quiet side project.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for her cell. She considered trying to use her desk phone to mask who she was calling, but if they'd searched her computer they could get her call logs. No matter what, if she called Oliver, they'd know.

Maybe she shouldn't call. If it would make Oliver safer…

She jumped when her phone buzzed in her hand, and let out a half-sob, half-laugh when she saw the display.

_Incoming Call: Oliver Queen _

"Ol-Oliver?" she answered, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"Felicity, I'm sorry it's been so long. I've been, well, my family is a mess and with Laurel, and Tommy's funeral," he sighed. "Diggle's been telling me for weeks that I'm hiding."

Of course, he'd want to talk, _actually_ talk right now. She bit down on her cheek to suppress another sob and rushed to fill the silence.

"It's, uh, I mean it's totally expected. Actually weirdly normal of you. Was I a little worried? Sure. But it's fine."

He was silent for a moment, and she could almost see the expression on his face as he considered and processed her reply.

"You sound upset," he said after a moment. "I really am sorry. I didn't want you exposed to more questions, but I've missed you. Let's meet for lunch. Burgers?"

Felicity glanced at the clock. Two minutes until Detective Carsters would come back in the room and place her under arrest.

"Well, actually, I'm in a… I have a slight, uh, conflict," she said, wincing at the awkwardness of her own words as the seconds ticked away. "Possibly a longterm one."

This time, the silence was shorter and sharper. "Felicity, what aren't you telling me?"

"Have you ever met Detective Sam Carsters? I hadn't. Didn't even realize he was a policeman until he was in my office telling me that he was awfully sorry for the inconvenience, but could he arrest me, please?" Her breath hitched, and she wasn't able to hold in the gasping sob. "So, I don't know what the charges are, but I'm not likely to be available for lunches."

"What? I thought Lance had cleared you!" She could hear him moving in the background of the call, his motion underscoring the sudden urgency in his voice. "Felicity, where are you now?"

"In my office. He gave me 5 minutes to prepare myself, which ends in about 45 seconds. Then, I guess I'll be at h-headquarters. Oliver, what if they have my phone records? What if they think it's you? I'm… I'm scared." She felt a tear roll down her cheek and hurried to rub it away. She didn't want to let the police know they'd brought her in terrified.

His voice was strong and sure. "I'll fix this. Don't talk until I get there."

Then he disconnected. She pressed a hand to her mouth and fought to control her shaking. She would walk out of this building with her head held high, dammit.

The door opened right on time. He must have been standing out there with a stopwatch running.

"Ready to go?"

She nodded, and he began reciting her rights.

"You have the right to remain silent."

His eyes were kind, but she didn't know anything about him.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

His compassion could all be an illusion.

"You have the right to an attorney."

He probably always played good cop, and people talked because he looked like a friend.

"If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

Detective Lance had not had kind eyes. His eyes had mocked her, but he'd been kind, in the end.

"Do you understand these rights?"

She swallowed, but her mouth was bone dry again, so she settled for nodding. She wondered how much worse she'd be feeling at this moment if Oliver Queen hadn't just told her he'd fix this.

* * *

Carsters tried to draw her out, telling her about Detective Lance's administrative leave (it was up in a week) and suggesting that they just have a chat to clear things up.

"No one's all that interested in you, Felicity," he said, in what she was sure would be a reassuring tone if it wasn't in the confines of an interrogation room. "We just want to get the vigilante off the streets."

"But why now?" she couldn't help asking.

"Well, in the aftermath of the earthquake in the Glades-"

"It was an attack," she interrupted. "I saw the interview with Moira Queen on tv. Everyone at Queen Consolidated watched it."

"Right, the attack on the Glades," he smoothly corrected himself. "SCPD has been a little busy, and the Hood has been quiet. But the Lieutenant feels that now is an optimal time to shut him down for good."

She scowled, wanting to argue again that Oliver's actions had shifted lately out of retribution and into justice. There was so much he'd risked, so much he'd done to keep the city safe. But he'd told her to stay quiet, so she licked her lips and held it in.

"So will you help us?" Carsters asked. "I have to say, I reviewed the evidence they found and it doesn't look good. So much overlap with vigilante cases. If you help us catch him, it's likely we can cut a deal."

She heard raised voices outside and figured that was her cue.

"I just, I'm sorry, but I'd really like to speak to my lawyer first."

There was a knock on the door and Carsters answered it with a scowl. She had never been so happy to see John Diggle in her life.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my fic war attempts. Next time I'm going to try and actually hold to a short word count and a single story. I swear. **


End file.
